Hainsey

For the next half hour, Ems and I say nothing to each other. We just bike in silence through the dense forest, save for our heavy breathing. For her, I guess you could call it comfortable silence. For me, though? I'm so damn uncomfortable I want to bury my head under the sand like a freaking ostrich (even though I know that myth is just a bunch of bullshit).

I don't know why I kissed her like I did, but the fact of the matter is that I still did it. I don't know where my head's been at lately – I'm like a walking contradiction; split right down the middle between wanting her and not wanting her due to inconvenient circumstances. Apart from the inevitable fact that my mom is a heroin addict and bringing Ems into my home life could cause a monstrosity of an earthquake, there's also the fact that she left. It hurts like hell and I always try to convince myself that that very reason is good enough to keep her away, but it can't compare to the fact that she came back for me.

I mentally sigh, feeling an oncoming headache.

Stupid, goddamned emotions – what's the point of them?

"I miss this," Ems finally says, tilting her sun-bruised face up to the sky.

I smile, but a little tightly. If she hadn't left, she wouldn't be missing this alpine scenery and what we're doing.

"What do you miss most?" I ask as we keep biking downhill along the damp boardwalk and through the woods. There's a sense of warmth flooding through me at the familiarity of being with her, of biking beside her and having her attention focused on me. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it – I've missed her. So fucking much.

She glances in my direction, and then looks away just in time to avoid a branch sticking out over the trail. "The alpine air. And the colour of the water. And the forest." She pauses again. Looks at me. "Remember the time we planned to run away together and camp on the other side of Lost Lake?"

"Oh shit," I laugh as the memory comes back to me. "I'd forgotten about that. How old were we? Nine? Ten?"

"Nine," Ems confirms.

"Right," I nod, "and you got in trouble at hockey practice for getting in a fight with Mitchell – "

"And I was too scared to tell my parents!"

"So you planned to pack a week's worth of Oreos and Spitz and run away – "

"And you agreed because you were madly in love with me."

I shrug, and then focus on the sharp corner ahead of us before responding with: "Yeah, whatever, Ems. The only reason I came is because I knew you wouldn't be able to handle the wild on your own without some masculine strength next to you."

She turns to me, a devilish grin on her face. "Please, Hains. You agreed to come because you were hoping to steal a kiss from me at a certain tree."

Damn. She's got me there. Back then all I wanted from her was a kiss. It would've been better than meeting my favourite NHL hockey player at that particular time.

We lapse into silence again.

My mind flicks back to everything that's happened and how we've been avoiding bringing up the topic. Mom always used to say that it was best to talk things out. But as soon as her words of advice spark in my head, my throat squeezes shut as if someone has tied a rope around my neck. I know what I want to ask her. I want to know why she left without speaking to me ever again. I want her to know the real reason why I'm unable to go to Ontario in September. I want to tell her that her absence hurt me in ways she can't even begin to fathom. But thoughts are easy because they're private. Words, on the other hand, are hard to form. I don't know where to begin.

"It would have been easy," Ems says quietly.

"Huh?" I ask, blinking.

She side-glances me. "Living in the wild while eating flavoured sunflower seeds and Oreos and berries."

Her words sound simple, like a joke or a statement, but I understand the hidden meaning; why Ems chose the word "easy" instead of "fun" or "invigorating." Living on our own, with no one else's decisions weighing down on us, would have saved both of us from experiencing hell with our families. Maybe we should have run away together and found our places in life on our own.

I sigh. "Ems. We would have wolfed down that food, and then lasted maybe an hour before we got hungry and trudged back home with our tails between our legs."

She snorts. "Why didn't we end up going?"

"Your dad caught you packing Oreos into your backpack and then asked you where you were heading. After that, you broke down in tears and ran to your room." I can remember the story well. "I think Rosa came into your bedroom an hour later and demanded to know why you and I were planning to run away without her."

Ems laughs. It's a sound I've missed. It's everything summer in audio form – the scent of watermelon, crickets chirping, and the warm breeze at night, the coolness of the water after a hot day.

I'm tempted to laugh along with her.

But I don't.

"Why did you get into a fight with Mitchell?" I ask.

Ems frowns in thought, and then I watch her bruised cheeks turn even redder. "He was, um, teasing me about my crush on you," she says quietly.

I look at her in surprise. I knew she liked me, but I didn't realize the crush went back that far.

"Huh," I all I can say because any other word that's more than one syllable is going to give away what I'm actually feeling. I may look calm, cool, and collected on the outside, but on the inside I'm freaking out. Has Ems liked me for that long? Christ.

"So," Ems says, changing the subject. "What about you Hains? I told you my plans. What are you doing for September?"

She's done it again. Called me Hains. There's a joy that also feels like a punch to the gut. No one but her has ever called me that. And if they had after she left, I would have insisted that they call me Hainsey. Sadness clings to me like a second skin. Why can't I figure this shit out? Yeah, it hurts that she got to take the name with her and I've had to wait so long to hear it again, but maybe I'm overreacting. My conversation with Val pops up. Damn her for seeing the bright side of this and igniting my stupid moral compass.

There's no denying that I'm attracted to her. I can barely breathe whenever she's nearby; every time we come into contact I feel edgy and exhilarated. Take right now as an example: my palms are sweating; my heart is beating in my gut, against my ribs, in my throat. I remember the way she looked at me after I kissed her earlier. Am I reading into this wrong? Does she want me? Is it possible she still loves me like she did before she left?

Angrily, I remind myself of why we could never happen. First of all, she left. Second of all, I can't bring her into a household that's even more dysfunctional than her own.

"Already told you," I reply. "Staying home."

I can tell she wants to say more to me, but I pedal ahead. I can't handle a conversation like this right now. Not when we're supposed to be focused on working.

For the remainder of the ride, I ride in silence with nothing but my thoughts keeping me company.

That all changes when I arrive at the campsite fifteen minutes later and see all my belongings piled on the front porch. I excuse myself from the group and walk over to where the camp host is waiting for me.

"What is this?" I ask, wiping away the sweat on my forehead.

The camp host – a large, balding man that reeks of onions and beer – goes into this large speech about how he expects campers to follow the rules and be out of their "goddamned cabins" at the required time.

I interrupt him mid-sentence. "What are you talking about? I have this cabin for one more night."

The man frowns and looks at his clipboard. "Are you Hainsey Stone?"

I nod, hiding my annoyance.

"Well," he says, letting the paper flop down. "You only had this cabin last night according to the reservations. So I suggest you pack up your belongings and find somewhere else to stay before my next customers get here."

With that, he storms off and I'm left staring at the door of the cabin, confused as hell about what's just gone on. There must be some sort of mistake. There's no way this should be happening right now. Ems said she had the reservations down to a science when I asked her. Hell, she even yelled at her mom.

I turn around, ready walk back to the group to ask her if there's the possibility she made a mistake.

But I get my answer without even opening my mouth.

When I turn around, I see the look of guilt in her muddy green eyes. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and then gives me a sad smile.

Anger soars through my blood.

Of course I should have expected something like this from Emyln Juliette Walker – the most headstrong, spontaneous girl I've ever known.

She did this on purpose because she wants something from me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Goddamn her. This isn't a good idea and she knows it, yet she's still done it.

Ripping my gaze away from her, I gather up the essentials I packed.

Fine.

If this is how she wants to play, then so be it. I'll share a cabin with her if that's what she wants, but there's no way in hell she's getting any information out of me. And I'm definitely not talking about the shit we've been through without someone to act as a buffer between our ragged emotions or else this night could end in fists flying.

So, with my belongings piled in my arms, I head for the cabin I'm going to be sharing with Ems.